allaboutgeorge

One stereotype the larger society holds about yogis and meditators is that they use their practice as an escape hatch -- that their devotion to the universe within them turns them away from the strife of the world around them. But many of the black yogis I spoke with say they are not about to shy away from life's grittier side: "I don't do yoga to run away from the world; I do it because it helps me create the best platform for me to be able to relate to people in a healthy and safe way," says Jule Broglin, a Kripalu-certified teacher based in West Harrison, New York, who has taught in prisons and at HIV clinics. "When you do yoga that way, you begin to see and feel things in a very realistic manner."

To hear some of the yogis render insights -- forging the bitter lessons of black existence in this country with the sweet aphorisms of yogic thought -- is to witness a kind of alchemy in action. "Most African American people are aware that maya, the worldly world, is an illusion. We're well aware of the fact that the stories in our culture are created by people who have an interest in maintaining certain power," says Simran Kaur Khalsa, director of the Kundaliini Yoga Center in New York City. "This culture makes it very comfortable for people to not have to see. Those of us who aren't comfortable, we like to see."

And what is seen with clarity is society's spiritual malaise. "The real root of racism is egotism, or identifying with and thinking that all you are is your body, your skin," says Purusha Hickson. "Then you look around and say, 'Well, that body, that skin, doesn't look like mine, and mine is better.'" This conceit is delusional, says Khalsa. "People who think in terms of being better than others are just disconnected from the oneness that is," she says. "If you don't recognize that other people are human beings, it's really just your own fear about your own humanity."

Naming/renaming has been an "issue" for black folks on these shores since the slave ships docked. Following emancipation, not only did families seek to reconstruct their ranks, but their names as well. Sixties nationalism made an expressive though shrill link between slave names, slave hair, and slave mentalities. It wasn't just Cassius Clay, Abbey Lincoln, and Stokely Carmichael who took African and Muslim names, but thousands of regular folk. While hippies baptized their kids Moon Unit and River Phoenix, folks named their's Kwesi and Latifah. (italics mine) Even Clarence Thomas's son, born in 1975, was christened Jamal.

"Racism 101," by Nikki Giovanni:

I love Star Trek [movies]. They are nothing less than Greek myths of heroic people doing extraordinary deeds with style and wit. No one on the good ship Enterprise will ever be short of courage. ... Star Trek perfectly epitomizes the sixties. You had a courageous white boy; a logical Vulcan; an Asian scientific transportation officer; an Irish, emotional doctor; and, the ultimate genius of Star Trek, Uhura, a Black woman who was the voice of the entire Federation. Toni Morrison once wrote: "The black woman is both a ship and a safe harbor." Uhura proved that. Of all the possible voices to send into space, the voice of the Black woman was chosen. Why? Because no matter what the words, the voice gives comfort and welcome.

And "Walking on Water: African-American Lives at the Turn of the Twenty-First Century" by Randall Kenan:

I often ask myself: Why? Why do I take so much pleasure in Star Trek? Moreover, during my travels, I encountered a great many other black males of my generation who were also Trekkies and Trekkers. Indeed, of all the detritus of pop culture, Star Trek seemed to occupy a strange and singular status. Why was this? ... I speculated that the appeal might have to do with Star Trek's future world -- a world free of disease, war, pettiness, sexism, and, for my black brothers in particular, racism. A fantasy world -- beamed into our homes weekly -- where those inescapable, annoying, infuriating slights and major injustices simply incurred due to the hue of our skins did not exist. A world where we could enjoy camaraderie and the wonders of the universe unsullied; a world -- hell, a galaxy! -- where freedom really did ring, in the cold vacuum of vast outer space.

My mother calls this pure escapism. Stuff and nonsense. But I beg to disagree. I think it is a bit more complex. I see it as ideological metaphor

Now, I've had a croissant and some root beer at Cafe 1428, and a few slices of watermelon that I will not touch and that Phil the proprietor brought over when Stephen started giving him a hard time about being too busy to make him a coffee drink.

On the cafe's station, the speakers are playing what sounds like a public radio station (where someone is interviewing Stephen Dunifer of Berkeley Liberation Radio at the site of the weeklong National Association of Broadcasters conference in The City today, just before the 4 p.m. protest rally).

"I saw a book called 'How to Survive Your Ph.D. Dissertation' in the library, and one of the things it suggested was playwriting ... They shouldn't have books like that in the library."

JOHN HENRY REDWOOD, an ex-marine, actor and playwright who appears to be in his 50s -- "his actor side wouldn't permit him to divulge his age" -- and said he came to writing as a diversion from a doctoral thesis. Every morning Mr. Redwood has been going to a rehearsal as the book writer and lyricist for "The In-Gathering," a new musical presented by the New Professional Company at the Duke Theatrer on 42nd Street. In the evening he walks three blocks west to perform as an actor in "A Lesson Before Dying," at the Signature Theater Company.

Here's a chat with five women, part of that Atlanta Journal-Constitution piece I linked to yesterday. I really enjoy the perspective of the gentleman who's married to the fifth woman.

Didn't Joseph Lieberman make some kind of remarks today or yesterday about outmarriage among Jewish folks? Thought I saw a headline somewhere. Nothing turns up on Yahoo's daily news section. I mean, it's not exactly the same thing for African-Americans, who are dealing with race as a social construct (which some hold onto as strongly to as, or turn into, a religion) instead of a specific faith. Anybody got a spare copy of "Portnoy's Complaint" lying around?

Me: Self, I would have to say that I don't rightly know why I am not a NYT subscriber. Beats the hell out of me!